Wilson's soul
by EvilDarkLady
Summary: When House is diagnosed with cancer, how will change his relationship with Wilson? This fic was based on the promo for episode 8x15 and on theories that, by then, were going around on Internet about the end of the series. Now AU. Warnings: slash, deathfic.
1. Chapter 1

**Wilson's soul**

Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me, I only write for fun (well, in the case of this fic I think I should say that I write for angst :s).

Warnings: Possible spoilers for the end of the series. Based on theories on Internet about it and prompted by the promo of episode 8x15 and by the fic _The Gift_ by rslhilson (if you read here something that reminds you of that fic, then I give him/her the credit). This is a death fic, and it is not the way I want the series end (well, except the Hilson, but that's the only thing that is highly improbable to happen in cannon). Rated M for later chapters.

Sorry for the grammar errors: English is not my mother tongue and I don't have a beta.

Just one last thing: I'm quite sure this is going to be an AU fic. I wanted to post it complete before the airing of the episode 15 in the USA, but as that will be impossible, I've split it in chapters. So, I'm posting the first chapter before the episode, but the rest will come after as I've imagined them, no matter what will actually happen in cannon.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1:<strong>

Wilson looked at the boy slepping in the bed that had once belonged to House, back when they where living together in the condo. Back, in the happier days of his life. Back, when they had pretended that they were only friends. Back, before the illness. Back, when House was still alive.

Wilson let the sadness washed over him. Four months ago, his friend had exhaled his last breath and he had felt utterly lost. The only thing that had kept him from giving up had been the promise he had made to House: to take care of the boy, the diagnostician's son.

The existence of the boy had come as a surprise for the both of them. As House had told him, he had been required to go down to ER as per request of a son's patient. Although he had ignored the request, he had found a child in his office an hour later. The defiance and the stubborness in the red-rimmed child's eyes had been unnerving and familiar. According to the diagnostician the kid had simply said "I'm your son". He had laughed at that but, after some data was provided by the child, House had started to have doubts. He had performed a paternity test that had come positive. The mother had died soon after in the ER due to injuries caused by a serious car accident and House had been forced to take care of the boy. Well, he and Dominika had.

But even more surprising than the very existence of the child, it had been the way his friend had acted towards his son who was an almost perfect stranger to him. Gentleness and patience had never seemed traits of the diagnostician. Thus, Wilson had been taken aback when he had seen House behaving in that way with his son, while he remained a jerk with everybody else. That fact had made Wilson believe that House's actions towards his own son were heavily related with his friend's less-than-caring father.

So, it hadn't come as a surprise to Wilson when just a few days before dying, the diagnostician had almost begged him to be the legal guardian of the child. He had told Wilson that he didn't want to leave the care of his son to Dominika; that the boy would only be a way to get what she wanted: the citizenship, and that this fact meant that his son could be in a home where he was not wanted but a mere tool. He had looked at Wilson with an openness and a sincerity that the oncologist had never witnessed in his friend and had told him that he didn't want his son to have such a miserable childhood as himself had had. When Wilson had looked into those impossibly blue eyes that were looking at him with so much fear and love, he knew he was damned. He could not deny anything to House, not when he was looking so vulnerable. And, although he knew nothing about bringing up children, he had promised House to do his best. That had seemed enough for his friend who had smiled and relaxed visibly.

The diagnosis of House's illness had coincided with the appearance of his son. Wilson remembered how Dr. Adams had told him about his suspicions about House being ill. As expected, his stubborn friend had avoided him for some time. But, in the end, he had surrendered and had let his team –and himself- to diagnose him.

It had been House himself who had entered in Wilson's office with a grim expression in his face and a carpet in his hand. He had heavily sat on the couch and had been quiet for almost a minute without looking at his friend. Wilson had become more upset with every second passing. That behavior had been a bad sign.

He had asked House if he had solved the puzzle. He had tried to sound cheering, but it had actually been lame. Perhaps, if his voice hadn't trembled so much while saying it…


	2. Chapter 2

I know this is a short chapter, but I'll post longer ones.

Also, I know that House can seem a bit OOC, but in canon, in quite intense moments when he is all alone, he shows he has feelings and that he is hurting. This could be considered a quite intense moment and I decided that I was going to let Wilson get a bit inside his shields because of his illness. Of course, you can complain about it, if you want.

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><p><strong>Chapter 2:<strong>

**Seven months before**

"Have you solved the puzzle?" asked Wilson, his voice trembling.

"I think so." House answered, without looking at the oncologist, yet. "But I need your confirmation." Actually, he didn't need the confirmation. But he had the ludicrous hope that he could be wrong in his own diagnosis.

House sat up and put the dossier on the table of the oncologist, who looked at it as if it was a bomb on the verge of exploding. Not that it wasn't that.

Once he finished studying the dossier, he stayed looking at it for a long time, knowing that the unshed tears in his eyes would be too evident to House if he looked at his friend. It was a bad type of cancer, one of the worst ones.

"It's cancer, isn't it?" came the subdued voice of the diagnostician. When House saw that his friend was having a hard time in finding his voice, he knew he was right. So, he continued talking. "I want you as my doctor".

Only then, Wilson found his voice although he still was avoiding looking at his friend. "I… I can't."

"Why not?" It was the almost angry response to his refusal. "You're the best oncologist in this damned hospital and of the whole state. And I want the best."

"Sorry, House. I can't be your doctor. You must understand, please." He lifted his gaze and looked into those impossibly blue eyes. "Too… too emotionally involved." He explained to House while two twin tears escaped from his eyes.

He saw the understanding in House's eyes as his anger abated. It was a rule of that profession of them: you mustn't treat those you care about, because it's impossible to remain objective.

"Any suggestion, then?" House asked calmer.

Wilson told him about one of the best oncologists of his Department, Dr. Davey, and House agreed to him. Although to say that he agreed could be an exaggeration. He simply said: "OK, whoever you want, but I don't want to hear you complaining about me terrorizing your colleagues." That gained a weak smile of Wilson who told his friend that he himself would be the one to give the dossier to his colleague.

After the meeting of the two oncologists, the treatment of House's illness started immediately.


	3. Chapter 3

Author notes: Although, after the airing of the episode 8x16, it has become a moot point, I think it's my duty to give the proper credit for the idea of the child being House's son, not Wilson's. It wasn't my idea. In fact, I read it in Internet. Regretfully, I can't remember where I read it or the person whom give credit to.

I've just realized that I made a mistake (stupid mistake) in Chapter 1 when I wrote that House had entered in Wilson's office with a "carpet" in his hand. This is what happens when you don't have a beta. I meant a "folder". The only excuse I have for this is that carpet is a false friend, because the Spanish word for folder is "carpeta". Sorry for the strange image that this mistake must have provoked to you. However, I'm glad to tell you that this isn't going to happen again as now I have a beta.

I want to thank my beta _TrenchcoatsAreSexy_ for her help and support. And any remaining mistakes are my fault, not her's.

**Chapter 3:**

**Two months after the beginning of treatment**

House had gone to Wilson's office to get his test results. He needed only one look at the oncologist's face to know what they were.

"It isn't working." House's statement wasn't a question.

Wilson shook his head in response. This sucked. He sucked! He wasn't being himself in this situation. He had always been able to give comforting words to his patients when he had had to deliver such bad news. However, how to do it now, when he also needed that comfort?

Dr. Davey had advised him against being the one to deliver the news to the diagnostician, but he had refused. He had felt it was his duty to explain it to his friend. Bad news delivered by a friend would be easier to digest. Dr. Davey had told him that he was wrong, that he wouldn't be able to put the necessary distance between them. That with a distant friend it could work, but they were too close for Wilson to deliver that kind of news. The head of oncology had been certain that, if his colleague had even suspected about his true feelings for House, he would have forbidden him to do it. Now, sitting in front of House, he realized that his colleague had been right.

"How bad is it?" House asked resignedly.

"The chemotherapy is barely containing the cancer, and the levels of your hepatic enzymes are very high," Wilson said. His voice was little more than a whisper.

"So, I'm dying," House said calmly, straight to the point. He had had time in these two months to accept this fact, and he was resigned to it, unlike his friend. Wilson was shaking his head.

"No…" he choked. "We can still try other procedures… we can use higher doses… we… we…" The oncologist couldn't keep speaking as he felt tears pooling in his eyes and looked away unable to keep the gaze of House, who was looking at him sympathetically. He felt like a fool. He should be strong for his friend, but it seemed that it was the other way around. He forced himself to stop the incoming tears. He couldn't fail his friend now. House needed him now. But he knew how hard it was to see someone you love dying before your eyes, knowing you can't do anything to stop it. It had shattered him before. This time, it was going to kill him.

"You know?" the amused-like voice of House interrupted the flowing of his thoughts. "If this is the way you behave every time you give bad news then I wonder why your patients thank you for telling them that they are dying." He was trying to improve the mood by being his usual sarcastic self, but he shut up when he saw the grief in the oncologist's eyes. Okay, time for another tactic, even if it was one he was not comfortable with: sincerity.

"I'm not afraid of dying, Wilson." In fact, after so many years in so much pain, it would almost be a relief. But he refrained from telling Wilson this because he knew it wouldn't be welcomed.

"I don't want you to die, House." This time, it was House who had to look away because of the amount of emotion it was coming from Wilson's eyes.

This, emotions, was unsteady ground for him. He normally tried to avoid them. It always had been this way and it always would. He didn't want discuss this with his friend. It had become a very emotional argument, because of his own feelings towards the oncologist and by the obvious care Wilson felt towards him. With Dr. Davey, it would have been different. They despised each other, so he could have been blunt with his words without fear of hurting the other doctor's feelings. With Wilson, he was too afraid to add to the pain his friend was obviously feeling by speaking his mind.

"You always knew I was going to die before you." That was a fact. He felt in safe ground with facts, even if the result was a pathetic attempt to alleviate the grief of his friend. He sucked at this, at giving comfort. Moreover, it felt so ironic that it had to be him, the patient who was about to die, to give comfort to the doctor.

"I never thought it would be so long before," Wilson admitted. House looked again at Wilson. He could see the pleading in those brown beautiful eyes. How could he refuse his request? "Please…"

Oh, shit. He usually could be an ass with Wilson without feeling guilty, even when he had caused him a lot of trouble or embarrassment. But this, this thing was different. He should do what it was the best option, the less painful for himself, shouldn't he? Because trying whatever his friend could have in mind was going to put him in more pain, but the outcome of his illness was going to be the same, nevertheless: his own death. But not trying it would cause an incredible emotional pain to Wilson and he did feel guilty for being the cause of Wilson's emotional pain, even if in this case, unlike Amber's death, he wasn't the one to blame.

"OK, suppose I accept to try something else. And I'm not saying I will do it. What would you have in mind?" House asked in a calm voice, although his eyes reflected a darker mood than before. _Damn you, Wilson. Why can't you let me be? Why do you want to force me to do something that is useless and painful?_

Wilson's face lighted up at the prospect of the diagnostician considering other options different than the simple surrender to the illness as Dr. Davey had suggested. He wasn't going to let his friend die without a fight.

"There are stronger drugs than the one you've been given," he said, slightly more hopeful.

_So, if the cancer doesn't kill me, it will be my own liver. Good thinking, Jimmy._ He forced himself to shut up his sarcastic voice and asked instead: "What are the rates of success?"

Wilson winced at the question. Dr. Davey had told him what the rates were in House's situation. In healthy patients, the rates weren't too high, but they could be hopeful. However, the diagnostician's liver was in very bad shape. Therefore, his chances were extremely low. He knew that if he told his friend the real rates, he would reject the treatment. That was why he told him the usual rates instead of his real ones, while hoping that House didn't notice the lie.

"About ten percent."

"Yeah, sure." This time he couldn't help being sarcastic. "That's why you're avoiding my gaze, because those are my real rates. I guess it must be a five percent rate at large." He glared at the oncologist, who had to avert his gaze again, embarrassed at being caught in a lie. The diagnostician stood up abruptly and went to the door. He could not stand anymore this emotional argument with Wilson. He needed some objective facts, once and for all.

"House…" he pleaded, his voice wavering. He was panicking. He was feeling as if House's life was slipping through his fingers and he was helpless to avoid it.

When House turned to his friend, his eyes had softened.

"I'm not going to take a decision, yet. I'm going to talk to Dr. Davey, first." He gave Wilson a weak smile and got out of the office before the oncologist could say or do something else to convince him of accepting.

After House closed the door, Wilson put his head in his arms as they rested on the desk. He felt utterly defeated.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author notes:** Right now, after seeing ep. 18 and the promo for ep.19, I have realized two things. The first one is that this fic is a complete AU and the second one is that, at this moment, I'm not in the mood for writing a death fic. But, don't worry, I'll finish this fic. It just can take me longer than I thought._

_Thanks to the readers that have added this fic to their favourite list._

_And, again, I thank my beta _TrenchcoatsAreSexy_ for her help and support. And any remaining mistakes are my fault, not her's._

**Chapter 4:**

House entered Wilson's office as usual, without knocking. His face was a stony mask, yet his eyes shone with resignation, but also with barely restrained fury.

"I've talked with Dr. Davey. He has given me the real rates. They are very far away from being promising. So, I wonder why you even suggested the treatment. Thus, I have one question to ask you." _Why the hell do you want me go through a useless treatment?_ he almost shouted, but when he saw those brown eyes so full of sadness and despair, his fury evaporated. He found himself asking instead: "Who wants me to try a different treatment, Jimmy or Dr. Wilson?"

Wilson held House's gaze, searching in the diagnostician's eyes for the right answer. In the end, he went for the truth. It was stupid to lie to his friend, because he could read him like nobody else.

"Jimmy." He almost winced at the hoarseness in his voice. He didn't look away, even if he wanted it badly, because this conversation was very important for him.

"You know this isn't going to work either, don't you?" _And that I'm going to be in a lot more of pain at the end of the treatment…_He felt a clenching in his heart when he saw the raw despair in his friend's eyes because of his statement. _Fuck, Jimmy, don't look at me like that._ House wanted to be angry at Wilson. He wanted to hate his friend for even suggesting more chemo, he wanted to tell him to go to hell, but he couldn't. He knew he was lost. He could not deny anything at Wilson when he seemed so devastated. It was the same as when Amber was dying, when Wilson had looked at him with that same look in his eyes and asked him to risk his life to save hers. And he had done it. He hadn't cared about himself at all. Everybody had seen it as guilt, even Wilson. But, it had had nothing to do with guilt, nothing at all…

"When do you want to start?" he asked, defeated.

"Tomorrow?" Wilson narrowed his eyes. Surely, House must be talking figuratively, mustn't he?

"Okay."

"Okay?" Wilson rubbed his neck. Was House serious about this?

"Yes, okay." House was starting to feel irritated. How many times could he repeat it?

"Are you really going to give it a try?" Wilson was trying unsuccessfully to not get his hopes up too high.

"Yeah, that's what I said." This time, the diagnostician couldn't keep the annoyance from his voice. Wilson made a placating gesture with his hand.

"Don't take me wrong, House. I'm glad, even relieved, that you are going to do it. But…" he paused warily. What if voicing his doubts made the diagnostician change his mind? He needed to know. He needed to be sure that House wasn't messing with him again. So, he resumed speaking. "Why are you willing to do it now that you know the real rates?"

"Wilson, I…" House stopped speaking. What could he tell his friend? _I have feelings for you and I can't deny you anything when you look at me like this_. But the hospital was hardly the place to have this kind of conversation. He realized he had to come clean with his friend before he died, even if it meant the end of their friendship. Wilson had the right to know. He made up his mind about this. He was going to tell him that evening. "Can I come to the condo tonight? I need to tell you something, while I can still do it."

"Sure." Wilson fought the urge to tell him that he could still have a lot of time later to say to him anything he wanted. But House seemed serious about whatever he wanted to talk about, so he kept quiet.

A few hours later, they were seated on the couch of the condo. For a couple of seconds, Wilson thought that it was exactly as before: the beers and the pizza on the table and a lame soap opera on the TV. However, it wasn't as before: the beers and the pizza were almost untouched, and House wasn't making any of his usual derogatory comments about the soap opera.

They were silent, but it wasn't awkward. There was a sad but comforting quality to it that made that neither of them wanted to be the first in breaking it. House sighed.

"I've told Dominika that I won't be coming back home tonight. I don't want to impose me on you but I don't feel like driving back home. I'm tired," House said tonelessly while still looking at the TV.

Wilson looked at House, bewildered. "You don't want to impose on me? That's a new one, House!" He stood up and started to search for something.

"What are you looking for?" asked House, confused. The oncologist stopped the search and fixed his gaze on his friend.

"I'm looking for the real Gregory House. I don't know where you have hid him, but I'm quite sure that he is not you." House started to laugh and Wilson seated back and started to laugh as well. When his laughter subsided, he spoke again. "You're acting pretty strange lately." House stopped laughing and his expression became serious.

"I'm going to die. So, I suppose that gives me the right to confront some issues before that happens." He could see that the grief in Wilson's face had returned, which made the diagnostician avert his gaze. The simple fact that he wanted to put things right between them, didn't mean it was going to be easy. He had never been comfortable with expressing emotions. However, after so many years being a jerk and a pain in the ass to his friend, he owed him a bit of sincerity at least.

Wilson kept silent. He had a lump in his throat that made it impossible for him to speak. House looked again at the oncologist and he forced himself to keep staring at him.

"Jimmy, listen. When you look back in a few months or years, I don't want you to remember me as a selfish bastard who didn't care about anyone but himself… Well, hmmm, you see… I know I'm a selfish bastard, but I care… I care a lot…" He felt self-conscious and couldn't keep staring at Wilson. He fixed his gaze in his cane. "Oh, shit! This is hard."

"House, you don't need to tell me now. You can tell me when you come back from the hospital." Wilson was stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the fact that House was probably going to die in a short time. He didn't want to hear what House had to tell him. Perhaps it was because deep down he knew what it was, and that Greg's words would only made his despair greater.

House wanted to shout at his friend that there wasn't going to be another chance. That he wasn't going to come back from the hospital. Not alive, at least. But he refrained. Despite all the annoyance Wilson was causing him, he couldn't bring himself to add to the pain his friend was feeling because of him. He sighed. He tried not to be so blunt.

"I don't think I'll be able to come back here again and I don't want to tell you this in a place full of bunches of gossipers." The diagnostician was again looking at his friend. He knew it was now or never, because his resolution was wavering. He knew that if he didn't tell him in that moment, he would end saying some crap and the opportunity would be lost. "I care a lot about you, Wilson." His voice was now almost a whisper, but he was keeping his gaze locked in the brown jewels that were his friend's eyes. "I'm in love with you." He couldn't stand it and averted his gaze again, because he didn't want to see the disgust he was sure was on his friend's face.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Author notes:** After seeing the end of episode 20, I'm not in a better mood for writing a death fic. But, as I've said, I'll finish this fic.  
><em>

_Thanks to the readers that have added this fic to their favourite list._

_And, again, I thank my beta _TrenchcoatsAreSexy_ for her help and support. And any remaining mistakes are my fault, not her's._

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><p><strong>Chapter 5:<strong>

The fact that Wilson subconsciously knew what he was going to hear didn't make the shock any less for him. His jaw dropped, and he felt paralyzed. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. He only could feel bitterness about everything that had happened in these last two months: his own revelation about his feelings towards House, the helplessness of being unable to cure him, the despair of being about to lose him and, right now, the realization of all the time they had lost. If only he had realized his feelings sooner, or House had confessed them before… but now it was too late… too much late for them to have a relationship. They had no time left, no time at all. He felt like crying.

"I'll understand if you don't want to be with me tomorrow in the Hospital."

Wilson was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he hadn't realized that House had stood up and walked towards his old bedroom. He was standing at the door frame while speaking. His face was a blank mask that betrayed nothing. But Wilson could see in his eyes the defeat and the hurt.

The oncologist wanted to go after him. However, what was the point? What could he possibly accomplish by doing it? Of course, he could reveal his own feelings to House, but he doubted that could lead to anything. Tomorrow, both would be hurting because there was no future for them. How much good could it do them, a single-night relationship, knowing what could have been if they had told each other before? Tears started to cloud his sight. Wilson looked towards the guest bedroom where House had gone.

However... the oncologist knew that, sometimes, part of the success of cancer therapy had to do with the patient's will to live. Of course, he had seen failures in patients with a high will to live, but he had also seen patients with no hope somehow beating the cancer just because they had good reasons to live. And it wasn't a secret that House didn't have good ones right now. Knowing that his love was returned could be his much-needed reason. He had to try it. If House died without him trying everything in his hand, he would never forgive himself. He stood up and went resolutely to the bedroom. He was going to give his friend every reason he needed to live.

He sat down beside House. The diagnostician was in the edge of the bed, looking at the floor, his arms between his legs and his cane twirling in his hands. Wilson put one hand on his friend's arm. House looked at the hand and then resumed staring at the floor.

Seeing his friend so dejected, he tried to think about something that could cheer him up. But, all he could think was about how House had acted towards him all these years and the possessiveness he had shown for a long time. A thought struck him: were love and jealousy, not selfishness, the reasons why House had interfered in his marriages? Perhaps it wasn't the best topic to improve House's mood, but he needed to know.

"Am I to supposed that all the things you've done these years to screw every one of my relationships have been out of jealousy?" he asked. There was no accusation in his voice, only curiosity.

House nodded without looking at his friend, so, he didn't see the ghost of a smile that graced Wilson's mouth.

"You could have told me before?" he said gently.

"Yes, of course," House said derisively. "That way you could have freaked out and left me before." Wilson winced at the threads of self-contempt and depression he could hear in his friend's voice.

"No. So I could have told you before that I love you, too." Wilson tried to convey all the affection he felt for House in his voice, but he wasn't sure he had succeeded because of the trembling tone to it.

House's head jerked up and he looked at Wilson with hope and fear fighting for dominance in his azure eyes.

"Do you?" he whispered.

"Does it surprise you so much?"Wilson sometimes was amazed at the diagnostician's hidden insecurities, when he had always seemed so sure of himself.

"Nah…Of course, it doesn't. I'm that irresistible," was House's caustic answer.

To Wilson, that was starting to feel ridiculous. How could his friend think he wasn't attractive? A direct approach should be the answer.

"You are," the oncologist said firmly, holding the diagnostician's gaze.

"Yeah. Sure," House said dejectedly.

Wilson rolled his eyes and pondered how to make him understand that he was telling the truth, that he was attracted to him in every possible way. He was so deep in his thoughts that he almost missed the next sentence uttered by the diagnostician.

"Take me, Jimmy," House said, without looking at his friend's eyes.

"Wha… WHAT?" Wilson asked, bewildered. Surely, he must be misunderstanding what House was telling him. He wasn't asking him to have sex, was he? It wasn't that he hadn't thought about that after realizing his feelings for his friend, but he had dismissed it because he believed his feelings weren't returned. Even when he had considered the possibility of being loved in return, he had also dismissed the thought, because of the diagnostician's illness.

"You know: take me, do me, fuck me… whatever you want to call it…" House was trying to sound casual while looking at the oncologist's face, the challenge, but also the fear of rejection, clearly written in his eyes.

"You… I… We…" Wilson stammered, not knowing how to answer.

"Are we doing a grammar class?" House feigned confusion, but the next second he arched his eyebrows suggestively. "Oh! I see… You want to play the teacher that wants to punish one of his bad students. Mmmm… Kinky… But I like it. I'm game!" he said, while getting closer to his friend, before he leaned towards Wilson in a sensual way.

"House!" Wilson exclaimed indignantly. How could his friend act like an adult one second, and the next be the most childish person in the world?

"Whaaaaaat?" House fake-whined. Wilson shook his head, exasperated and defeated.

"Nothing. Nothing at all." Wilson couldn't avoid showing his annoyance in his voice. "I should have known better than try to be sincere about my feelings. You do always mock about everything. Couldn't you be serious about this, just this time?" The oncologist needed his friend to act like the grown up he was, because all of this was too important to joke about.

"I was being serious, Wilson." House sobered and kept Wilson's gaze to make sure his friend understood he meant it.

"Do you really want me to… you know… that?" Wilson asked embarrassed. While he was used to House's gay jokes, he felt awkward talking seriously about gay sex. He supposed it had to do with the fact that, until two months before, he hadn't considered himself anything but straight.

"I wonder how a man who has fucked with half of Princeton can be so shy about sex," House commented, apparently amused by his friend's reaction.

"I haven't fucked with half of Princeton!" Wilson said, outraged.

"Well, you're right." House dropped his chin as if he was in a deeply thought, the same way he always did whenever he was trying to solve a case, and then looked at Wilson again with a wide smile. "I think there are four or five women you haven't still slept with…" said nonchalantly.

"House!" Wilson didn't know if he should lecture House about the seriousness of the situation or hug him due to seeing him smiling, a rare event these days.

"You're repeating yourself," House chided Wilson, still smiling. The oncologist found he couldn't really be annoyed with his friend's jokes, for they were greatly improving the diagnostician's mood.

"And you're an ass," Wilson retorted jokingly.

"Yeah, but an ass that you like… or so you have said…" House said, leaning suggestively towards Wilson, again.

"You're impossible. You know that, don't you?" Wilson said softly without a trace of annoyance in his voice.

"That's one of my charms," House replied softly. He traced his fingertips on Wilson's cheek, caressing him very softly.

Wilson felt the diagnostician's fingers ghosting over every contour of his face and shut his eyes while suppressing a shudder. They felt so good. He liked it a lot; too much, in fact. He wanted so badly to give himself into the touch. But he couldn't do this. He would have wanted to have sex with his friend, but not now, not when House was so ill, so weak. He steeled himself and backed from the touch, but he immediately regretted it when, opening his eyes, saw the hurt on House's eyes.

"You didn't like it," the diagnostician stated, disappointed and hurt.

"Yes… no… yes… I mean…" Wilson stammered, because he didn't really know how to explain his behaviour to his friend.

"You don't have to lie on my behalf, you know?" House had moved farther away from Wilson than at the start of the conversation, and the anger in his voice was tangible. His gaze showed the non-physical pain that Wilson actions had caused. "Obviously, my touch disgusted you. You really don't love me. I've never wanted your pity and, I sure as hell don't want it now, either."

"No! I haven't lied to you, House. I do love you. Please, believe me," Wilson said pleadingly. He hoped his friend believed him, because he didn't want that House thought he had been messing with him.

But the diagnostician was so furious that he was beyond reasoning. He stood up and went to the door and, after opening it, he pointed towards the living room with a finger.

"Go to hell!" House shouted. He was trembling with rage and hurt. "Get out!"


	6. Chapter 6

_**Author notes: **Sorry for the delay, but personal issues and the finale have been messing with my writting.  
><em>

_Thanks to the readers that have reviewed this story and to those that have added this fic to their favourite list._

_And, again, I thank my beta _TrenchcoatsAreSexy_ for her help and support. And any remaining mistakes are my fault, not her's._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6:<strong>

Wilson couldn't leave things that way. He needed House to believe him, and to give him a chance to explain his reasons for refusing. At this point, he didn't think that words were going to work. That just left him with one choice.

He stood up, and when he was in front of House, he took the diagnostician's face between his hands and kissed him fiercely. Shocked, House opened his mouth to express his surprise, but he couldn't as, in the next second, he found a tongue avidly exploring his mouth. After overcoming the shock, House found himself responding to the kiss with a hunger that threatened to drown him.

The cane clattered to the floor and Wilson was dragged closer to the diagnostician's body by two arms tightening around his waist. The oncologist pushed eagerly his own body against that of the other man and started to feel a tingling in his lower abdomen as a part of his anatomy came to life.

When his lungs hurt from the lack of oxygen, House broke the kiss and looked with a searing intensity at Wilson, whose eyes were full of desire.

"Why, Jimmy? You refuse to fuck me, but it's so obvious that you've enjoyed the kiss." House emphasized his point by joining their groins and rubbing his own bulge to that of Wilson's.

"I… mmm... God, House..." Wilson moaned. He was torn between giving into his desires and making House to understand his motives. But, in the end, the more rational part of his brain won. Wilson wriggled, getting out from House's embrace, and went back to sitting on the bed. It was easier this way, for Wilson was sure his resolve would shatter if he remained in House's arms. "O... okay, I'll explain it to you. But, please, don't interrupt me."

"And what's the fun in that?" House asked, half-joking, half-annoyed with what felt like Wilson's rejection.

"House, I beg you." Wilson looked at House with pleading in his eyes.

"OK, I'll try," House conceded grudgingly.

Wilson arched an eyebrow suspiciously, but he didn't say anything.

"First of all, I want to assure you that I would also want this… this physical… thing…"

"Sex is not such a difficult word to pronounce, Jimmy," House interrupted, amused with his friend's embarrassment. Wilson looked irritated at House, a warning clearly written in his gaze.

"...between us if the circumstances were different…" Wilson resumed as if House hadn't interrupted him.

"Say it, damn it: if I wasn't ill" House was starting to feel annoyed by the roundabout ways his friend was using to explain himself.

"You just told me you weren't going to interrupt me!" Wilson snapped.

"No, I told you I was going to try." House smirked. "But, I never said how hard I would."

Wilson glared House. Couldn't his friend made an effort not to be a jerk once in his life? This was too important for both of them to be making fun of it.

"Can you try it harder, for God's sake?"

"I can." House had that smirk that Wilson had learned to recognize as the tell that his friend was messing with other people. And, as they were only the two of them there... Wilson sighed in defeat.

"But you won't," Wilson stated irritated.

"Nope," House was still smiling.

"I don't know why I even bother myself in pretending we can have a normal conversation." Wilson was starting to think that, perhaps, this conversation wasn't such a good idea.

"I wonder that myself, too. And, by the way, normal is overrated. But, please, go on."

"Oh, what a miracle! You've said please," Wilson exclaimed, exasperated. He was heavily considering leaving things as they were right then. "Well, whatever… As I was saying, I also want this, but not under these conditions. Not when you're in no shape to engage sexual activities…"

"I'm a doctor myself, you know? Let me be the judge of what is the best for me." House was now annoyed. He was ill, not a weak being incapable of standing by himself.

"Yes, of course. As if being a doctor has ever stopped you from harming yourself," Wilson muttered.

"Or you from asking me to do it." House couldn't resist adding, because he didn't like to be lectured. However, he regretted it when he saw the pain in Wilson's face. Perhaps, it wasn't the best moment to remind Wilson about his dead girlfriend.

"Sorry, that was out of line." he said softly, feelings uncomfortable at apologies.

"Yes, it was. But that leads us to my other point." Wilson saw that House was going to speak again and hastened to add: "And if you interrupt me again in the next five minutes, I'm going to gag you with my tie. Do you understand?"

As a way of answer, House took his hand to his mouth and made a gesture as if he was zipping it. Immediately after that, he looked at Wilson with a wide grin in his face and waved his eyebrows in a seductive way.

Wilson blushed and groaned as he realized what image he had conjured in the diagnostician's mind. But, that though also aroused him a bit, even if that arousal got dampened the next second, when he started speaking again.

"I don't want to go through the same I went through when Amber died. Amber's death almost shattered me. If we get this relationship of us beyond this point, if I get to know once what I can't never have again, your death will kill me."

Wilson stopped and looked expectantly at House who was silently staring at the floor.

"Don't you have anything to say now?" Wilson felt disappointed. House could make any stupid remark at the most inane thing, but when things got highly emotional, he acted like a stone: cold and unfeeling.

"You told me not to speak."

The slight tremor in House's voice surprised the oncologist. He put his hand upon House's one resting in his cane. The diagnostician looked up into the brown eyes and simply said: "You're completely wrong about your reasons."

"Do you think so?" Wilson said, more curious about hearing his friend's reasons than doubtful.

"No, I know. I'm the genius, remember?" House muttered and Wilson winced at the almost contemptuous undertones in House's voice. "A genius that has missed all the signals you surely were giving out."

"You are not the one to blame for not realizing sooner, House. I didn't…" the oncologist started to say apologetically, only to be immediately interrupted by his friend.

"No. Now it's my turn to speak. Now, it's your turn to keep silent," House warned, a daring expression in his gaze.

"I'll be as much silent as you were." Wilson couldn't help to say. At that, House threw at him what it could have passed as a threatening look if the oncologist hadn't known better.

"You know I'm not you. So, I won't hesitate on tying you with your own tie and not exactly to keep you silent. Be warned." His voice was so husky that Wilson had to restrain a shudder that had nothing to do with fear or cold. He nodded for he had suddenly lost the ability to speak.

"Well. Then, about your first objection: I'm in shape to engage sexual activities as you have put it. I'm okay," House claimed.

"No, you're not," Wilson objected, and House took his friend's tie between two fingers and pulled at it as a reminder. The oncologist snatched it away from his grasp and pointed accusingly at his friend with one finger. "You've said that yourself, before: that you were too tired to drive back home."

"I lied." House looked away, not because he was ashamed about lying, but because of the reasons for doing it.

"No, you didn't." Wilson didn't believe House. He couldn't avoid the strictness in his voice when he spoke again. "You've been under chemotherapy for almost two months and, perhaps you've forgotten that, as an oncologist, I know what the collateral effects of those drugs are. Being tiredness one of them."

"Okay. Okay, Jimmy." House looked with a serious expression at Wilson to show him he wasn't messing around this time. "I'll concede you that I'm tired, but I lied about being so tired that I couldn't go back home. It's just…"

House looked away and Wilson recognized it by what it was: his friend was trying to express his emotions verbally and that was causing him to struggling with himself. The oncologist remained silent to help his friend to gather his thoughts.

"I didn't want to spend my last night outside the hospital with Dominika, but with you. I…" House's voice was so strained that Wilson realized how hard this talk was for his friend. "I was so sure you were going to be so thoroughly disgusted about my feelings for you that I had to set up that excuse so you didn't kick me out. I thought that even being in a different room was better than being in a different house too far away from you. But now…"

Wilson kept silent because he felt overwhelmed. He doubted he had ever heard a more sincere and emotional speech leaving the diagnostician's mouth. A speech that showed clearly House's feelings for him. He put one hand in his friend's cheek and caressed him.

"But now?" he prodded gently in a soft voice.

"Now, I can only think of being in the same bed as you." House was looking at Wilson with such intensity that the oncologist had to make a conscious effort to keep looking at his friend. "I want to have sex with you this night for as long as my body lets me. I want... No, I need this. I need to have the memory of this when I start the new and more aggressive chemo. I will need something which to hold on."

Wilson felt his resolve wavering. He had gone to House's bedroom to give him a reason to fight the illness, a reason to live. And he, clearly, needed him wholly, in every sense, as a reason to go on. So, how could he deny to the man he loved something he needed so badly? But, then, he would be hurting even more when his friend died. He felt so desperate…

"And about your second reason," House took one of Wilson's hands between his, awkwardly trying to comfort his troubled friend. "If you really love me as you claim, you're wrong when you say that having sex with me will hurt you more than it will if we don't."

"Don't you think tomorrow we both will be hurting, knowing that what we've shared won't happen again?" Wilson asked, his despair oozing from his voice.

"Of course, we will," House conceded. He paused and tried to recover some composure. This conversation was taking longer than he had expected, and the emotional turmoil in him and in his friend was starting to be too much to endure. He wasn't sure how much more of this conversation he could take. "But I know you too well. Right now, you're blaming yourself for not being able to cure me, even if it happens with lots of your patients. That's the way you are and I can't change it. And, yes, tomorrow you will be hurting because of that. But I will still be here. Not in a great shape, I have to admit, but I will be still alive and that will help you to cope, with me around being the usual jerk and moody buddy you know…" He winked at Wilson trying to dispel some of the tension. "And love, huh?"

Wilson only nodded his head, a small smile gracing his lips.

"Wilson, if we let this chance to slip between our fingers, when I die you'll blame yourself for denying to both of us what we clearly want. I won't be there and it would really kill you to know you wasted your only opportunity of us being what we should have."

Wilson realized that House was right, but he was still uneasy at the thought of such a short relationship.

"Then, what are you suggesting, House? A one-single-night relationship? How does that even work?" Wilson didn't even try to hide the grimace that such thought elicited.

"No, Jimmy." The diagnostician squeezed Wilson's hand and smiled at him seductively. "I'm suggesting a relationship for the rest of my life consisting of a one-night of wild sex and a lot of days of girly handholding and cast kisses on the forehead."

"Wi… wild sex? I… I've never… that is… I don't know…" Wilson stammered, his cheeks sporting a crimson red. House looked at him amused.

"I can show you, if you want, of course," House stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Show me?" Wilson asked puzzled.

"What you need to know to fuck a guy," House said with a wide grin plastered on his face.

"How could you possibly know it?" Wilson looked at House stunned.

"Have I really to explain you how I know how to fuck a guy?" House was smiling, clearly enjoying this turn of the conversation. This, the banter, the half-mocking, he was comfortable with; expressing emotions he wasn't.

"You… You haven't, have you? I… I mean… I've never seen you with anybody else but women." Wilson's shock was almost tangible.

"Because I've never let you see me with men in those situations. And, especially, because I used to hang with them whenever you had other interests in mind: meaning wives and girlfriends." Even if he would never acknowledge it to anybody, not even loudly to himself, that had been his way to cope with Wilson fucking them, especially when he had found a male hooker that resembled to his friend. "That's why you never noticed."

House knew he had taken Wilson by surprise with his confession. But he didn't want his friend dwelt too much in the thought of him being with other men, because that could kill the mood for sex. Thus, he kept talking.

"So, what do you say? This could be as well my last wish before I die." He knew this last sentence was blackmail and a small part of him felt like shit by doing that to Wilson. But a larger part of him knew that, if blackmail was what was needed for them giving into something they both wanted, then it was well worth being harsh to his friend.


	7. Chapter 7

**Warnings:** This is the chapter that gives this fic the rating, so you're advised: explicit sex scenes between men.

_**Author notes: **Again, thanks to the readers that have reviewed this story and to those that have added this fic to their favourite list._

_And, as always, I thank my beta _TrenchcoatsAreSexy_ for her great help and support. And any remaining mistakes are my fault, not her's._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7:<strong>

"I… I…" Wilson stared at House's incredible blue eyes. God, he wanted to drown in his sea eyes. He leaned into him, closing the narrow space between them, and kissed him tenderly. Now, there was no need to rush things anymore. Now he didn't have the need to prove a point, nor the need to prove to the diagnostician the raw intensity of his feelings. So he kept softly brushing his lips to those of the older man. Wilson marveled at the wonderful feeling of this simple gesture.

No more words were needed. Although House was completely still as if he was an unwilling participant, Wilson realized that there was no tension whatsoever in his friend's body and that he was making soft sounds that would have been almost inaudible if it wasn't for the fact that they were so close to each other. To Wilson, the stillness felt more like a total surrender to whatever he wanted to do to his friend.

However, it wasn't long before House opened slightly his mouth as a silent invitation and Wilson accepted it eagerly.

He kept tenderly exploring House's mouth. But after a few seconds, House started to tremble. Wilson parted the kiss and stared at his friend with concern.

"You okay, House?"

House found that he could not speak. He had dreamt about this for so long, that now that it was happening for real, he was afraid of moving and discovering that it was only a dream. The only thing he found himself able to do was to give his friend a weak smile and nod.

"Are you sure?" Wilson asked, more concerned than before.

With an effort, House regained some of his composure, but he realized that his voice would sound cracked if he tried to speak. Therefore, he opted for actions, as they spoke louder than words.

He closed the space between them and kissed Wilson. At first, it was just a peck on Wilson's lips. But, it was so intoxicating to feel him and soon House found himself softly nibbling Wilson's bottom lip. When his friend gasped from pleasure, the diagnostician took advantage of this and deepened the kiss. Then, it was his turn to explore Wilson's mouth. And, although it had started as tender as Wilson's kiss had been, soon it became a tongue duel, a fight for dominance.

House embraced Wilson by his shoulders and pulled him till they were lying on the bed, with Wilson on top of him. They kept kissing, while their hands become bolder, exploring and caressing as much as they could of their partner's body. It wasn't long before they felt the other's erection pressing.

When they became breathless, they reluctantly parted. They stared at each other amazed at the sparks and lust in the eyes of the other.

"I... I think... we would be more... comfortable in my bed... it's bigger..." Wilson said breathlessly while trying to regain some measure of control. He didn't want to go too fast, he wanted this to last, to get the most out of the probably only time they would be like this. What he didn't expect at all was the angry reaction of his friend.

House pushed Wilson off with such an incredible force that he almost fell to the floor. The oncologist regained his equilibrium in the last moment and moved to lie next to House looking bewildered at his friend who was staring at the ceiling.

"I'm not going to have sex with you on _that bed_!" he shouted angrily.

"House?" Wilson was puzzled. What had gotten into his friend? What was wrong with his bed? He tentatively touched House's arm. He didn't rejected the touch, but he neither acknowledged it.

"House, what is the problem?" Wilson asked annoyed. "It's a big bed and comfortable. Sam never complained..." He stopped when he saw the grimace on his friend features and realized which was his friend's problem with his bed.

"Oh! I get it. Soooooo... what were we doing before I had that foolish idea?" Wilson said playfully, trying to undo the damage. He didn't want bad memories soiling their lovemaking.

The oncologist caressed House's arm and could feel his friend relaxing under the touch. House was already regretting his angry outburst, but he had been unable to help it. He didn't like to be reminded of the _harpy_. Everything had gone so wrong after her appearance. He shrugged internally and reminded himself that what really mattered was that she wasn't here anymore, but himself was, in the verge of having sex with his friend -_making love_ a voice said in his head, a voice that was too alike at that of his soon-to-be lover.

Wilson leaned towards his friend and gave him a quick peck on the lips. He stared at the diagnostician to see if he was okay with continuing.

House smiled, the tension having evaporated almost the instant Wilson had kissed him again. He could see the anxiety in his friend's face, so he opted for showing him that he was more than willing to continue and further things ahead. He sat and pointed to the floor at the end of the bed.

"Give me my backpack."

Wilson nodded and moved to the end of the bed. House kept smiling while admiring his friend's body and ass moving to retrieve his item. God, he was so beautiful. Of course, he wasn't going to say those words aloud; they were too sappy for him.

Wilson had expected for House to take an orange bottle of pills from the backpack, so he couldn't avoid his jaw dropping when he saw the items in the diagnostician hands: a metallic envelope that clearly contained a condom, and a tube that Wilson guessed it was lube.

"You ready for the next step?" House asked, clearly amused at his friend's stunned expression.

"Shou... shouldn't I be the one asking that?" the oncologist asked not leaving his gaze from those items. "And... and... were you expecting this to happen? Really?"

"No, you're the inexperienced one, Wilson. And no, not really. But I like to be ready to any contingency." Although House was smirking, his voice was kind. That made nearly impossible for Wilson to not look at his friend. The oncologist blushed. He was anxious and so afraid of disappointing House. He started fidgeting with his hands.

"Relax, Wilson. Otherwise, you won't enjoy it."

"Sorry. It's just... I feel so..." Wilson was feeling his nervousness increasing by the minute.

"Virginal?" House quipped bluntly.

"Don't mock me, House!" Wilson snapped angrily. He was nervous enough, he didn't need his friend's sarcasm in top of that.

"I'm not mocking you, Wilson." House sighed and touched Wilson's cheek lightly. Being the sensitive one wasn't his forte at all, but he knew that he would have to do his best as Wilson was bound to be worried about this because of his inexperience. "Just stating a fact." He moved his hand down and traced Wilson's jaw. Upon reaching his chin, he made Wilson look at him. "You know? I'm kind of flattered to be your first." House leaned into his friend and kissed him briefly again.

Wilson felt his anger evaporate and stared at his friend in awe, for, even if House was still his usual snarky, the oncologist was seeing a side of him he hadn't witnessed before: the thoughtful lover.

"But if you ever tell anybody I said that, I would deny it and stitch those lustful lips of yours shut." House pinned his friend with what he wanted to pass for a steely gaze. However, his tone gave him away as it lacked real threat.

When Wilson failed to answer anything at all, House sighed again and looked at his friend with serious but sympathetic eyes. This was being more difficult than he had anticipated and there was only so much caring he could show without feeling distinctly ill at ease.

"I've already told you, just relax, Wilson. I'm not a teenager girl you must impress with your incredible and utterly amazing performance. I do know better than that. Really. Just, let me lead you."

Wilson swallowed and nodded, unable to utter a simple word. He didn't seem more relaxed but House deemed useless to try and calm him anymore. His friend would have to gain confidence by himself.

"Okay, then. Let's go with theory now, so we can practice without talking getting in the way." House smiled slyly and Wilson blushed. "So, first, using the condom is just your decision. I'm clean and I'm quite sure you are, too. Besides,..."

He trailed off because, although it wouldn't matter if he caught something that Wilson could have as he wasn't going to live for too long, he knew he couldn't possibly tell that to his friend if he wanted to get laid at all.

"Forget it. It doesn't matter. I'd rather you didn't use it, but do it if you do feel the need to." Next, House explained him the mechanics of gay sex. His friend was his usual direct and blunt self, so Wilson couldn't help but grimace afterwards, what gained him an annoyed look from House. "What?! If this disgusts you or if you are second guessing you, tell me now, before we go beyond. I don't want a pity fuck. You don't have to do it just for my sake!" the diagnostician snapped angrily.

Wilson rolled his eyes. _Here we go again._ House and his deep hidden insecurities showing again. But, funny enough, that made some of his own insecurities go away.

"House that's not the point. It's just..." Wilson tried not to squirm under the daring glance of his friend. "You made it seem so clinical, so detached, that... I don't know, it sounded more as if I had to perform a rectal exam, not... not... as... as if it's painful and not fun at all."

To Wilson's surprise, House started laughing.

"Oh, well. I won't say that just _fun_ is the proper word to describe it, but, don't worry, it's _fun_." House said after the laughter subsided. Next, although the amusement was still clear in his eyes, he added more seriously. "I was just sharing the theory, you can't convey in words all the _fun_ you can enjoy. However, I'm not going to lie to you: in the beginning, it can be a bit painful. But, again, don't worry, that a little pain is more than worth for what you get later." A mischievous grin graced his features and he leaned to his friend. He hovered his mouth an inch over Wilson's ear. "Just let me show you how pleasurable this can be." He whispered.

House blew a heated breath in Wilson's ear. The oncologist repressed a shudder, because he wanted to argue more, to reassure himself that this was going to be as pleasurable for his friend as it was going to be for himself. Just a second after, all his thoughts eluded him and a gasp escaped his lips. House was softly nibbling his neck at the same time that the stubble scratched softly his skin, provoking goosebumps that sent pleasured tremors throughout his body that landed in his groin. He felt himself hardening quickly again under his friend's ministrations.

"Too many clothes," House huskily whispered against Wilson's neck, while his hands started to unbutton his friend's shirt. The combined sensation of House's lips and stubble prickling against his neck and the breath on his skin made him shudder and he closed his eyes, letting the delightful sensations washed over him. A second after, he felt lips covering his own and demanding entrance. He eagerly parted his lips and, again, he felt that warm velvet caressing every inch of his mouth. Soon, however, the kiss became more passionate, more intense.

Without breaking the kissing, House tugged impatiently at the hem of Wilson's shirt, untucking it from under the trousers and letting it slid over Wilson' arm to the bed and, then, to the floor. With frantic movements, House took the undershirt off, just briefly breaking the kiss. Following his example, the oncologist tugged at House's shirt which soon joined the other items of clothes.

Next, House took Wilson's belt between his hands and looked at his friend, who shuddered when he saw those pools of desire that where his friend's eyes. As a way of permission, Wilson' hands went to House's trousers and unzipped them. House lifted his hips so Wilson could pull it down along with the boxers, discarding them also on the floor.

Then, the oncologist realized that House's hands had stilled on his trousers and were trembling. He looked at his friend, who had his gaze averted and the jaw clenched.

Wilson understood. With one hand, he disentangled House's ones from his trousers and, then, he moved to his friend's damaged thigh and gently traced the scar with his fingers. He caressed House's jaw with his other hand and, tenderly, forced House to look at him. Without averting his gaze from his friend's eyes, he leaned down to kiss the scar. He placed feathering kisses on every inch of it. House made a strangled sound, not quite a moan, but neither a sigh, closed his eyes and moved his hands to caress Wilson's hair.

Once he finished with the scar, Wilson sat up, kneeling on the bed, and looked at House, smiling. For all his smugness, his friend was too self-conscious when it came to the scar. House was more relaxed now, but some uncertainty was still drawn in his eyes.

Wilson put his hand on his friend's chest and pushed him, laying him back on the bed. Being careful not to hurt House's leg, he straddled his hips and leaned to kiss him, almost lying on top of his friend. House hissed and bucked his hips up when Wilson's trousers brushed his erection.

"Too many clothes, still," he said with husky voice that made his friend's desire rocket to higher levels.

Wilson parted the kiss and knelt back. With quick but fluid movements, he peeled off the rest of his clothes, keeping his gaze locked with House's. He could see his friend intently staring at him while he undressed. He could see the desire in those blue eyes, the lust, but also the love shining. Wilson gulped, too overwhelmed at witnessing the emotions playing in his friend's eyes. He had believed that being completely naked in front of House would be awkward. However, now, seeing the naked emotion on his friend's face and realizing that that was a rare gift, he felt at ease and he realised that he trusted completely the diagnostician. He trusted his friend's reassurances about what they were about to do and, therefore, felt all his anxiety evaporating.

Wilson smiled. He had decided something. He was going to show House that he trusted him without a shadow of doubt. He reached to the nightstand and took the condom. He was aware of House following each one of his movements. He put the condom into the drawer of the nightstand and turned to look at his friend.

"You're right. We don't need it." Wilson smiled, seeing the soft smile that had graced House's face at his action.

He laid down again on top of House and hissed when his erection brushed that of his friend. He couldn't help but rock his hips once, wanting to feel more of that heated bliss that was House's cock. Suddenly, a thought left him lightheaded: how would it felt to have House inside him, filling him? He felt a rush of emotions, mix of desire and dread (he remembered his friend had said that it was a bit painful). Eventually, he cast the thought away, because that was not what House wanted of him, after all.

Looking at the man beneath him, he held his breath. He wanted to imprint his friend's image in his retinas, so he could never forget how beautiful House was like this, naked physically and emotionally.

He leaned down and hungrily kissed the diagnostician. House responded with the same neediness and, before he could react, Wilson found himself under House's body.

Too overcomed with desire, the oncologist failed to wonder how in hell House had managed to turn their positions so quickly with a bum leg. What he did notice was the strength shown by the arms pinning him to the bed. He caressed them mesmerized, sensing the powerful muscles under the skin.

House was staring at Wilson, smiling. A real, beautiful smile, Wilson realized, not one of his friend's trademark smirks. The kind of smile that nobody else was allowed to witness, only him. And he became aware that he could never shake the spell House had thrown him under. He knew, then and there, that he could do nothing else than surrender himself to whatever his friend wanted of him.

House leaned down and kissed him briefly with such a mix of desire, lust and tenderness that left Wilson feeling dizzy.

Next, House kissed along Wilson's jaw and down to his neck. The oncologist tilted his head to allow his friend better access. When House reached to a spot near his friend's ear, Wilson let out a gasp. The diagnostician nibbled softly that spot and smiled when that action earned a moan from the oncologist. Next, he sucked on that same place. Wilson wondered for a second if he was going to sport a hickey, but the sheer pleasure of what House was doing to him made him dismiss the thought as irrelevant.

House moved down Wilson's body and started to kiss his chest. He kissed, nipped, licked and sucked one nipple. He felt his friend's reaction to his ministrations: how his back arched into the touches, how every suction generated a low groan in his friend's throat. It felt so good, being him the cause of Wilson's pleasure, that it made him harder than he was already. It made him so needy that, when he went for the other nipple, he couldn't avoid rubbing his erection against Wilson's hip. That seemed to encourage the oncologist even more, who, in turn, rubbed his own cock to House's hip. House shifted his body so their cocks rubbed together and he couldn't help but to moan at the incredible feeling that the action provided.

"Oh... god, House..." Wilson said between gasps of pleasure at the delicious combined sensations of House's mouth on his nipple and his cock rubbing against his friend's.

However, he groaned when the sensations were lost as House moved down further.

His friend licked and sucked his navel, and Wilson couldn't help arching his back so his body could get more of that magnificent and skillful mouth. He felt House's smile on his skin and, a second after, he moaned at the loss of contact, while his body, on its own accord, arched even more to get again that hot mouth on it.

However, when he thought he couldn't stand that sweet torture any more, he felt House's hot breath on the tip of his erection. He trembled with the sheer pleasure of it and the overwhelming need for more.

"Fuck... House, please..." he pleaded, placing one hand on his friend's head and pushing him to his aching erection.

House looked up to his friend with such raw desire written in those azure eyes that Wilson felt mad with lust. Without breaking the eye contact, the diagnostician closed the narrow space and licked the precum leaking from Wilson's slit.

Then, he took the head in his mouth and, next, he slid his skilled tongue on the underside of Wilson's straining erection, while caressing his balls with one hand.

Wilson moaned loudly. He had never felt so needy, so lost in those lustful sensations while making love before. They had just started and he already had less than a tenuous grasp on his control.

"Stop it... please," he panted pleadingly to House. When his friend looked at him worriedly, he hurriedly added, "not going to last... otherwise..."

"Then, time to move things forward," House said hoarsely while sliding up. He kissed passionately Wilson, who returned the kiss with a fierceness that surprised the diagnostician.

After a while, House parted the kiss reluctantly and looked at his friend with a searing intensity while taking his hand. He put a generous amount of lube on Wilson's fingers and nodded.

Wilson gulped and felt the nervousness creeping into him again. He couldn't help but felt the uneasiness of his non-existent experience. House saw the self-doubt clearly written in his friend's eyes and put one hand on Wilson's cheek in reassurance. The oncologist leaned into the touch.

"Just do it, Wilson." House said with a gentleness that surprised Wilson. He didn't doubt Wilson, he trusted him wholeheartedly. He knew that his friend was going to do fine despite his inexperience and that he won't hurt him. He smiled at Wilson in reassurance and kissed him again with tenderness and undeniable love mixed with the neediness and desire that were still there. House was expressing with his actions the emotions he was almost incapable of expressing verbally.

And just then, Wilson understood that the end wasn't the most important part of what they were doing that night. That it didn't matter if their lovemaking ended in the most incredible fireworks they had ever experienced or not. The really important thing was what they were feeling at the moment, the intimacy they were sharing together with that act, the love they were expressing towards each other with every kiss, every touch and every caress.

House parted the kiss and fixed his bright blue eyes on the brown ones, naked emotions showing on them for Wilson to see. Suddenly, the oncologist didn't feel so self-conscious. True, he still was a bit anxious about what they were about to do, but he was a lot more confident now.

Pushing gently on House's chest, he slid from under his friend, lying next to him. He reached down to House's groin with his lubed hand and caressed his friend's erection with one lubed finger. Wilson smiled proudly when that simple action earned him a low groan from House, who was still staring at him, but with a more glazed gaze now.

He moved his hand further back and reached House's opening. He didn't want to miss a thing about their lovemaking, so, while staring intently at his friend, he pressed there. House arching his back was like a big reward to him. Every little expression of pleasure his friend exhibited felt like a victory to the oncologist. Knowing that he was the one pleasuring him was more valuable than any prize he had ever earned.

He pushed his finger into House's body, but he couldn't make it far before his friend's muscles clamped onto his finger. At the same time, a hiss came from his friend. House had closed his eyes and was clenching his jaw. Wilson was about to withdraw his finger, but he remembered what House had told him before: _You can't avoid a little pain. It's going to hurt at first, but don't stop. Just let my body tell you when to go ahead and when to wait._ So he waited till the muscle relaxed and, then, he pushed forward again. When his finger was in all the way, Wilson noticed with concern that House was almost panting, although his eyes weren't so tightly shut. When the diagnostician finally opened his eyes, he saw the concerned gaze of his friend.

"Shut up. Keep going." House's voice was low and husky and needy. That reassured Wilson that everything was right and complied with the command. He started to move the digit in and out in a steady pace.

"Fuck!" exclaimed House when a jolt of pleasure went all over his body as the finger brushed his prostate. Before his friend could misinterpret his outburst, he added hoarsely panting: "There... again..."

Wilson smiled when he understood what had triggered his friend's response, and he concentrated on hitting that same spot again. He felt rewarded when his friend, groaning, started to move onto his finger and said more moaning than talking: "More... more...". Wilson eagerly complied and added a second finger.

The stimulation of a second finger was almost overwhelming. With the last of his remaining brain functions, House realized that he was going to end the show before it started if things kept going like that. House didn't want that, he yearned for feeling his friend inside him, to reach the orgasm with Wilson's cock inside him. He had for so long. He knew it was time for the next step.

"Now, Wilson," he ordered his friend, his voice trembling with need.

"You sure?" Wilson asked surprised. He hadn't ended the preparation of his friend and he was afraid of hurting him.

"Yes! Damnit!" House seemed desperate... was desperate. "Please..."

And with that Wilson knew for sure. If his friend had had to resort to pleading, his need had to be unbearable. House never pleaded for anything.

Gently, he removed his fingers and smiled at seeing House's body moving back trying to get back the feeling of fullness inside him. Wilson took the lube and generously applied it to his throbbing erection. He hissed at the combined feelings of the coldness of the lube and his own touch. He too was more than ready. He could only hope to have the enough restraint over himself so not to rush things. If not, he could hurt House badly.

When he moved on top of House, mindful of his friend's leg, House had already placed one pillow under his lower back and another under his right leg.

Wilson positioned himself between House's legs, brushing his friend's raging erection. The sheer pleasure showed in the diagnostician's face and the arching of his back, made Wilson even more needy. He kissed House, briefly but lovingly.

When he parted the kiss, he could see House's eyes looking at him intently. They locked gazes. They were really going to do this and neither men wanted to miss any detail of the moment in which they would became one. House gave Wilson a soft encouragingly smile.

Wilson guided his erection to House's opening and pressed against it, slowly pushing inside. When the head passed the inner rings, the muscles clamped onto him. He groaned at the tightness and he had to use all his restraint to not push all the way in. It was overwhelming and only the hiss, half-pain and half-pleasure he heard from his friend helped him in not giving into his urges. House had now his eyes closed and was breathing in raged pants. Also panting, Wilson waited to feel the muscles relaxing.

"House... I can't..." he said in a whisper that sounded more like a groan.

When he thought he couldn't stand not moving one more second, House's eyes fluttered open and, smiling, pushed his hips up, impaling himself completely on his friend's cock.

"Oh... fuck..." It was all Wilson could say. The fierce gripping of his cock by House's ass and the incredible hotness of it, made go away all coherent thought. Instinctively, he tried to move, but firms hands at his hips kept him still. He opened eyes that he didn't remember to have closed to see his friend looking at him with an intense concentration drawn in his gaze. _Wait a second_ those blue eyes seemed to say. So, he kept still or, at least, as much still as he could when all his body was trembling from the utter need of resuming moving. He lowered his head and rested it in House's chest.

After what seemed an eternity but was just a few seconds, the grip on his hips loosened and he felt a hand petting his hair. Slowly, very slowly, afraid of hurting his friend, he started to move out and in and out again. He was still trembling, but he feared increasing the rhythm or the intensity in case he ended hurting House.

"Faster... harder..." House growled and moved sharply his hips urging his friend to comply.

Wilson took the hint and, more than willing, let himself go. With their gazes locked again, he increased the speed of his movements. He heard a soft moan and, belatedly, he realized he had come from himself. He couldn't tear his eyes apart from House's eyes, greedily drinking the ecstasy he saw in them like a draught land avidly drinks every drop of rain.

House's hands were driving Wilson mad. They were sliding once and again along his back, first grating his skin with his nails, causing him pleasure that bordered on pain. And, the next second, the fingers were ghosting on the same spot, caressing the tender flesh and sending shudders of ecstatic pleasure directly to his groin.

Wanting to return back the pleasure he was being given, Wilson angled his hips and his effort was rewarded when a groan left House's throat and his friend's eyes glazed. He smiled knowing he had found the spot he was looking for. He aimed for it again and again. And he hit it again and again.

He go on in a steady pace letting the sensations enveloped him. It felt incredible. It was way better than in any of his dreams. He relished on the awesomeness of House's hot skin under his chest and the marvelous heat and pressure in the most sensitive part of his body. And even although he felt a completeness unlike any other he ever did before, he was still left desiring even more, willing to melt with his friend until they were just one body and one soul, longing to feel forever this sensation of fulfilment and never letting go of his friend, to retain him to his side cheating to the death itself.

He was getting closer and closer with every push, but, before that could happen, he wanted to experience House's climax. He didn't want to miss that while in his own post-orgasmic bliss. So, he slided one hand between their abdomens and took House's cock in his hand. House let out a loud groan at the combined sensations that Wilson was providing for him. He knew he wasn't going to last as soon as Wilson started pumping his cock with the same rhythm he was pounding into him. Wilson could feel that House was close, as he was himself. His movements had become erratic. He leaned his head on House's shoulder.

"Come on, baby... come for me." Wilson whispered encouragingly to his friend.

House groaned at the sound of Wilson's voice near his ear. Hell, it was hot, too hot. Soon, all became too much. Never unlocking his gaze from Wilson's, he tightened the grip he had on his friend's waist and arching his back, he climaxed onto Wilson's hand and his own abdomen, shouting Wilson's name. The clamping of the muscles enveloping his cock made Wilson fall over the edge and he came hard, also calling his friend's name.

Wilson collapsed over House, but, surprisingly enough, he avoid crushing his damaged leg. Panting, he covered House's face with soft kisses. And, also surprisingly, House let him without complaining. Still kissing him, Wilson withdrew his softening member from House who groaned at the sudden void he felt inside him.

The oncologist moved to lay half on the bed, but his arms and legs remained still intertwined with those of his friend. They remained like that, totally sated, for some minutes. When House had regained some strength, he softly nudged Wilson, who tiredly opened his eyes to question his friend.

"Don't you ever call me baby again." House tried to sound menacing, but the smile plastered in his face and the sleepiness in his voice made it sound more like a whining than a real complaint.

"Okay, baby." Wilson smirked. House raised his eyebrows but didn't say anything. He just elbowed Wilson some more and tried hard not to keep smiling, but failed as his smile never left his face.

"You're really a fast learner," House complimented his friend after a while. And, in an afterthought, as if speaking to himself, he added, "So, it's true then..." He yawned. He was really tired now and felt himself drifting to sleep.

"What is true?" Wilson asked puzzled and a bit anxious about what his friend had to say about what they had just done.

"That you're a sex god, Wilson," House said with the last of his strength still smiling.

Wilson was stunned. A sarcastic House was the norm. Compliments hardly came out from his friend's mouth. So, twice in a row had left him speechless. That, and seeing him wearing a real smile for so long. When he recovered enough to say a coherent sentence, House was already asleep. Wilson smiled. His friend seemed so at peace. And suddenly, it tugged at his heart the knowledge that tomorrow at that same time his friend would be dealing with the effects of the chemo. His smile disappeared.

Trying hard not to think in what was to come, Wilson got up and went to the bathroom to retrieve a wet warm towel. Going back to the bedroom, he sat on the bed. House didn't move. He was so sound asleep that he didn't react when Wilson lovingly cleaned him.

After cleaning his now-lover and himself, Wilson climbed into the bed and cuddled House. Feeling the warmth of his friend's body and his rhythmic breathing, he, finally, fell asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

_Sorry for the delay, but some ectic months coupled with my muse going to other stories (that is my _A new start_ series) had prevented me from writing this story properly. I'm going to finish it, although it can take me a lot of time. Well, this leads me to my other concern. I'm not sure what to do with the next chapter, we can have the story progressing or we can have another smut chapter, but that's up to you. That means that if you want it, you'll have to review and tell me so. If not, chapter 7 was all the smut you'll get in this story._

__As always, I thank my beta _TrenchcoatsAreSexy_ for her great help and support. And any remaining mistakes are my fault, not hers.__

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><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

Wilson woke up to the sound of the organ being played in the living room. He kept quiet for a minute, listening to the song. It was a beautiful, but sad piece.

God, he loved when House played. He enjoyed looking at his long fingers, deftly touching the keys to produce wonderful songs... Memories of the past night flooded back to him: how those same fingers had caressed him, how they had made him moan and writhe.

At those thoughts, he felt the beginning of arousal that was immediately dampened when he realized that this could be the last time he saw him playing music.

He got up from the bed and quietly went to the living room.

When he got there, House had started to play another song, and Wilson was startled when he heard his friend singing quietly. House playing was not unusual, but him singing was a rarity.

Wilson smiled upon hearing the first verses of the song. It fit his friend so well, the verse where he sang '_talk don't bother me'. _Of course not. House had never seemed bothered by what people could think or say about him.

However, his mood got somber when he heard the part that said '_I'm gonna keep on loving you till the day that I die'_. Honestly, he would have preferred a song where death was not mentioned. He kept listening, though, and, then again, he smiled at some other verses. He couldn't stop a big smile from flickering across his lips when he heard that one about gossip. It reminded him what his friend had said the day before, about the Hospital being full of gossipers.

House kept playing and singing oblivious to his friend's presence. Wilson wondered if House was thinking about them while singing that song. He hoped he was, for it made his heart swell up with love for this man.

House ended that song and when, after a few silent seconds, Wilson thought his friend was done with playing the organ and singing, House started anew.

After hearing the beginning of the song, Wilson's mood became darker. House was singing about someone leaving him, someone whom he had long loved. The oncologist realized that his friend couldn't be talking about him, could he? Because he had never left House; they had just started their relationship. So, to the oncologist, it was obvious who his friend was thinking about: Cuddy. That hurt. A lot. He felt jealousy washing over him.

Although Wilson understood that, because of his illness, House could be compelled to reassess his life, he felt that the diagnostician should have left the assessment of that specific period of time for any other moment. After what had transpired between them a few hours before, shouldn't House be thinking about them, not about Cuddy?

Wilson realized he had been holding his breath and couldn't help but exhaling sharply the air in his lungs. The resultant noise halted the organ being played by House.

After an awkward silence in which neither of them moved or said anything, House shifted in the bench. He was annoyed at being caught in an emotional state, even if the person in question was his lover.

"Don't you know it's rude to spy on other people?" House said in a tight voice, without looking at the younger man.

"If you didn't sing at four in the morning, maybe I wouldn't be up here," Wilson snapped.

House turned around to look at Wilson with surprise in his voice and on his face. "You had long stopped complaining about me playing in the middle of the night."

Wilson wanted to shout at him that, those other times he hadn't complained, House hadn't started to sing thinking about a former girlfriend just after they had made love. Wilson restrained himself. Perhaps, House was confused about what had happened between them that night, as much as that thought could hurt the oncologist. Or, perhaps, he needed to say goodbye to Cuddy before… No, the ending of that thought hurt even more than the previous one. Wilson sighed.

"I can call her. I'm sure she would come when I told her about your illness," he said, bitterness clearly drawn in his voice.

House looked at Wilson bewildered for a few seconds and, then, his jaw tensed.

"I didn't want her pity before. Sure as hell that I don't want it now," House said angrily.

"Her pity?" It was Wilson's turn to be bewildered. "I'm sure that whatever she could feel for you right now is not pity. Not after what you did to her home."

"Her home…? Shit… you were talking about Cuddy, not Stacy." House looked at Wilson as if he had grown two heads. "What made you think about me wanting to see Cuddy? However, it wouldn't matter. Even if I wanted to see her again, she wouldn't. In fact, I'm quite sure she won't come to my funeral, either. I know I wouldn't if I was her." He couldn't avoid the sadness that imbued his words. He could be in love with Wilson, but he still loved Cuddy as a very good friend, and he regretted that his actions had cost him her friendship.

"So, you weren't thinking about Cuddy when singing, but Stacy?" Wilson felt even worse than before, because things with Cuddy were irreparably broken, but, with Stacy, it could still be hope for House. Even if she was still married.

"What the hell…? Are you mad? Of course I wasn't thinking about Cuddy. And, even less, I was thinking about Stacy… Why…?" House stopped talking and stared at his friend intently. He saw the emotions playing clearly in his face: love, hurt, jealousy and pain. So, Wilson had thought he had been thinking about his past lovers and had felt betrayed. That was why Wilson had snapped at him before. He saw that his friend was going to talk again and cut him off before he could start. "And, if you, even remotely, suggest that I could have been thinking about Cameron, I'll castrate you." His voice, however, lacked of any threat, and he was smiling.

"But… but… who, then?" Wilson was so astonished that he couldn't think or talk properly.

"You're being annoyingly dense tonight, aren't you?" House tried to show annoyance, but failed completely.

He was amused instead. But, above everything else, he had felt loved when he had witnessed the jealousy his actual lover had displayed at the thought of him thinking about past lovers. He suddenly felt the urge to kiss Wilson. To dissolve with that kiss any doubt his friend could have about the owner of his affection. He restrained himself. Wilson could take the kissing as a distraction, as a way to avoid discussing this, instead of as a way to prove him who he was in love with. He wasn't going to allow any other misinterpretation of his actions, especially, not tonight.

"Take a chair and sit right here next to me," House said, with a smile shining in his face.

When Wilson did as he had been told, House started playing and singing again without moving his gaze from Wilson's.

"_Just let them talk, if they want to. Talk don't bother me, I'm gonna keep on, I'm gonna keep on loving you, till the day…"_ House couldn't keep singing because there were lips over his own and a tongue was in his mouth, claiming it.

The song forgotten, House's hands clasped on Wilson's hair and neck. Wilson's arms were circling his waist and they kissed passionately till they had to part breathless. They were both reluctant to lose the contact, so they kept embracing each other while their foreheads were pressed together.

"But I… I don't understand it…" Wilson whispered breathless. "The other song… you talk about someone leaving you… we've just started this relationship… so, I haven't left you." House backed a little without breaking the embrace, so he could look at his friend's eyes.

"Don't be an idiot, Wilson. The fact that we have just had sex doesn't mean that I haven't been _interested _in you for a long time before. And yes, you left me once. In fact, twice if we count the time I was in prison and you didn't visit me," House explained softly, without any blame in his voice, just a statement of facts.

"That other time… do you refer to Mayfield? I didn't visit you there because you asked me not to." Wilson said half-puzzled. Even while he was speaking, he knew that his friend was not talking about that. However, he didn't allow himself to think about a past too painful that made the present even more terrible.

"Definitely dense tonight, Jimmy." House looked a bit exasperated now. "I'm not talking about that. I know as well as you do that it was my decision about you not visiting me in there. I'm…" he faltered.

It had never been easy to talk to Wilson about Amber, but these days it was hard to talk about it without feeling guilty for making his friend going through the same road again, even if the culprit here was the cancer, not him. House's eyes were full of past hurt and his voice was above a whisper as if that could make more bearable to hurt his friend with his next words.

"I'm talking about a year before Mayfield. We were supposed to be best friends, but after I risked my life and my mind just because you asked me to, you told me that we weren't friends anymore... that you weren't sure we had ever been. Then you left the Hospital and… and me…" House had looked away while uttering those last two words, knowing too well that his eyes were giving away all the heartbreaking he had felt when Wilson had left him.

"I... I'm sorry, House." The oncologist felt so much guilt that he couldn't even look at his friend anymore. "I can't say that I didn't want to hurt you. That would be a lie and you know it. I was so lost, then. I wanted to blame someone, to make someone hurt as much as I was. And I targeted the person I loved the most, although I was in deep denial then. It was wrong for me saying those words. I'm sorry. I... I don't know what I can do to make it up for..." He shook his head. He had never realized how much pain he had caused to House until now, and he was at a loss about what he should do.

"You've made up for it, tonight," he answered with a sly smile, while looking again at his friend. Wilson's head leapt up on hearing those words and a small smile graced his lips. It faded as soon as he heard his lover's next quiet question. "Do you still blame me?"

The oncologist forced himself to keep his gaze locked with House's and answered with total honesty.

"I do." He could see the hurt that those two simple words had elicited in his friend. He tenderly took one of House's hands and said softly. "I blame you as much as I blame myself or Amber." He saw the surprise in House's eyes. "I blame Amber for not calling me after you called, for going to the bar herself or for going after you and getting into the bus. I blame myself for denying both of us our mutual feelings, for neglecting you and distancing myself from you when it was obvious that it was taking a toll on you." He gently kissed House's lips and when they parted he looked at his lover apologetically. "But most of all I blame myself for asking you to do the DBS and becoming estranged from you, afterwards. I... I'm not sure I would ever be able to forgive myself for asking you to risk your life -and your mind- like that."

"Forget it, Wilson. It was my decision to do it," House said, utterly serious. "I knew what I was getting into, what the risks were. I'm a doctor myself, remember?" he added with a smirk.

"But-" A mouth on his own prevented Wilson to keep talking.

"Don't, Wilson. It was my choice. I could have said no," House said sternly, after breaking the kiss.

"I should have never made you feel so guilty so you felt the need to risk your life like that." Wilson wouldn't let his lover give him areprieve for his sins.

"It wasn't guilt, Wilson," House stated firmly. Even if he had felt guilty about Amber's demise, it hadn't been that feeling what had driven him to accept the DBS. "Not even the puzzle."

"Why, then?" Wilson asked, puzzled. He didn't know what other reason the older doctor could have had for undergoing such a risky procedure.

House shrugged.

"You loved her. I wanted you to be happy," he simply explained.

Wilson looked surprised at his friend-turned-lover. Nobody would ever believe him if he told them that such a selfish creature could be, at the same time, so selfless. That House had been willing to risk not just his life, but his most valuable possession, his own mind, for his friend's happiness spoke volumes about the true nature of the man that lay below House's thick protective shields.

"At the time, I couldn't forgive you for surviving her," Wilson said, feeling that House's honest answer deserved an equally honest response. "Had you died while saving her, I wouldn't have been able to forgive her for surviving you. Nor me. Ever." Wilson's gaze was drawn to his hands in his lap, refusing to look at his lover.

House, however, was staring intensely at Wilson. He wasn't going to allow the oncologist to wallowing in self-loathing. He put his hand under Wilson's chin and softly, gently, he nudged him to force him to rise his gaze. House leaned towards the oncologist and featherly touched Wilson's lips with his own and, then, moved to caress Wilson's neck with his lips.

"Stop it, Wilson," House said, his lips forming the words almost on his lover's neck. "It... was... my... decision..." House remarked every word with a soft bite on the skin over the pulsating arteries of his neck. A moan escaped Wilson's throat. He tilted his head to give House better access. The diagnostician licked and sucked eagerly the neck that had been offered.

A low growl escaped Wilson's throat. He scooted closer to the other man, wanting to feel every possible inch of House's body against him. He moved from the chair to the stool, their bodies impossibly close. House kept sucking on that delectable neck.

"Harder, House," Wilson said with a rough voice. "Mark me."

"You sure?" House parted slightly, surprised at the request. Had he been asked, he would have answered that being marked with a hickey was something that his friend would never allow. But, here he was, begging him for just that.

Wilson kept their gazes locked while taking one of House's hands and dragging it to his hardened groin. The contact elicited a sharp intake of air by the younger man and an unidentified sound by his friend.

"You bet," Wilson answered with an even rougher voice.

House drew his gaze from Wilson's eyes to his neck and swallowed, suddenly, strangely overwhelmed by the request. To blemish such a beautiful skin with his mouth... He had had a sudden thought of not being the one worthy doing it.

He raised his hand and softly traced one finger on the spot he had been licking and sucking. A choked moan from the other man made him look at his friend's eyes again. The lust and raw desire he was seeing in those hazelnut eyes sent an energy jolt down his groin, and House felt himself hardening at once. All his doubts were erased instantly, and House found himself sucking hard on that perfect skin.

Then, it hit him: he was branding Wilson, marking him as his. Now, his lover would carry the proof for everybody to see it. It didn't matter to House that nobody would knew that he had been the one to do it, or that everybody thought that the culprit had been some woman. To him, it was enough that he and Wilson knew the truth. He would be willing to offer Wilson reciprocity if he asked for it. Although he didn't need to be branded. Everybody had known for a long time who he belonged to.

His desire for that man spiked, and he sucked even harder on his lover's neck, till he would have sworn that he had felt the blood vessels breaking. Wilson produced a small sound, half-hiss and half-grunt, a mix of pain and pleasure. Then, House eased the suction and gave a few soothing kisses to the sensitized skin. He ended his ministrations and searched for Wilson's mouth for a brief but passionate kiss, their mutual hunger for each other plainly evident.

"Oh, god, House," Wilson gasped when they parted the kiss.

Wanting, needing even more contact with his lover, Wilson stood up and straddled House, sitting on his lap but carefully avoiding to put any pressure on House's bad leg. As soon as he sat in House's lap, he realised what he wanted more than anything. He wanted to experience what House had a few hours before. He found that he didn't mind the initial pain, he wanted to feel House inside him, filling him, completing him. He fiercely kissed his lover, thrusting his hips against House and swallowing the groan the diagnostician made at such display of passion. When the oncologist parted the kiss, he looked intently at House with a fierce determination drawn in his blazing eyes.

"I want you to fuck me, House."

The response he got had nothing to do with what he had expected. House stilled and looked away, shaking his head.

"House?" Wilson was bewildered. What the hell had happened? What wrong thing had he said?

"I'm sorry Wilson. I don't think I could," House answered in a deflated whisper, still not meeting Wilson's eyes.


End file.
